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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627824">Yours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_rebel/pseuds/quiet_rebel'>quiet_rebel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Queen's Gambit (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breeding Kink, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Dom/sub, Love Letters, Object Insertion, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Size Kink, Yes they fuck on top of a chess board, chess as foreplay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:15:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_rebel/pseuds/quiet_rebel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first letter arrived in Lexington two months after Beth left Moscow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Vasily Borgov/Beth Harmon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>346</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Yours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! It's me again! Back with more Beth/Borgov smut. </p><p>So, this story was a roller coaster to write, and maybe after reading it, you will feel that way too. Not only because of all the emotions, but because Beth and Borgov were so KINKY in this story. Even I was blushing! </p><p>Anyway, hi to all the new fans! I'm glad to see our part of the fandom is growing! Tell all your age gap friends!</p><p>Enjoy the fluff and smut. There's also some plot if you're into that sort of thing ;)</p><p>Feedback is fuel.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The note read: <i>Make sure no one is following you tonight.</i></p><p>Beth immediately recognized the handwriting when she found the piece of paper tucked under the door in her hotel room. The heavy slant of each cursive letter. The pressure of each imprint of the blank ink stained on white paper. Every stroke perfect and punctuated.</p><p>Inside her room, she looked over the letter again. Each time she read it, her heart skipped a beat. She felt like a silly school girl. And maybe, in Borgov's eyes, she was one.</p><p>Beth took off her coat, and with the note still in her left hand, she sat in an armchair and slipped her right one under her dress. She remembered the first time she did this for the Russian. Legs spread and draped open over the chair arms. Blouse untucked and open. Her plaid skirt bunched around her waist. No stockings. Feet bare. Her pink underwear dangling around her left ankle as she touched herself. He sat in a chair across from her with that same powerful stare she had witnessed many times before over a chess board. She imagined the same thing now alone in her room. With each touch of her fingers, she whimpered. It wasn't enough. She plucked her nipples through her dress. It still wasn't enough. She put the letter to her nose, hoping to catch his woodsy scent, but nothing. Beth could only rely on her memories. As she closed her eyes, she saw Borgov rise from his chair and move deliberately toward her. Dressed impeccably in his black suit, he sank to his knees in front of her and took her hand, sliding her wet fingers into his mouth. He sucked them clean, and her cheeks warmed at the filthy sight. But that was just the beginning. When he lowered his head and put his mouth right on her, she gasped, her back arching from the chair. Beth couldn't believe Borgov's tongue was inside her—inside her—</p><p><i>Just say it, cracker</i> as Jolene would put it.</p><p>Beth couldn't believe Borgov's tongue was inside her pussy.</p><p>It didn't take long for him to make her unravel, and when he lifted his shiny mouth to hers, she greedily licked herself off his lips. </p><p>In that moment, Beth's eyes flew open. Her body jerked and twitched as the orgasm claimed her, and the memory retreated back into her mind. Breathlessly, she looked around the empty room with an ache and a sadness. She was still clutching the letter in her hand. </p><p>Tonight, she told herself as she sucked her slick fingers, wishing it was Borgov tasting her instead. </p><p>She only had to wait for tonight.</p><p>**</p><p>The first letter arrived in Lexington two months after Beth left Moscow. It was from Helsinki, and there was no return address.<br/>
<i><br/>
Dear Miss Harmon:</i></p><p>
  <i>I hope you are enjoying your new life as a chess grandmaster. There are many benefits to being the best player in the world. But I must warn you, there are also many downsides. It can be very lonely, and it was lonely until you came along. You have the opportunity to change the game now. Do not waste it.</i>
</p><p>The letter wasn't signed. </p><p>For weeks, Beth studied the piece of paper, going over each pen stroke, wondering who sent the letter. Jolene was convinced it was just a fan, another fellow chess player who was sending his congratulations for her win in Moscow. </p><p>It was harmless.</p><p>Then, the second letter arrived. This time, the postmark said Warsaw. Again, no return address, no signature. </p><p>
  <i>Dear Miss Harmon:</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I met a pretty young Polish girl this morning and thought of  you. She told me that after seeing your face in a magazine, she begged her father to buy her a chess board. I spotted her playing alone in a park while I was out for a walk and asked to join her. The amusing thing was that she didn't recognize me. But I know there are more urgent matters for her to learn in this game. She has potential, which is what I told her. Her eyes grew bright. Just like when I handed you my king. The girl's name was Natalia, and I know there are now more Natalias out there because you changed the game for all of us. But remember, there can only be one Elizabeth Harmon.</i>
</p><p>As soon as Beth realized the letters were coming from Borgov, she stopped telling Jolene or anyone else about them. </p><p>Over the course of a year, the letters arrived. Each from a different city, each without a return address or signature. But each one, the same handwriting. </p><p>Beth learned to recognize Borgov's writing, just as she learned how he played chess. And she learned how to read his words especially with what he was saying in between the lines.</p><p>The letter from Stockholm: <i>I still picture your delicate hand in mine and feel your warm body as I wrapped my arms around you.</i></p><p>The letter from Dresden: <i>Today, I heard your voice on the radio giving an interview. The truth is I still hear your voice often. </i></p><p>The letter from Paris: <i>I remember how my heart broke for you as I watched you cry.</i></p><p>And then there was the letter from <i>Chess Review. </i></p><p>
  <i>Miss Harmon,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You have been invited to represent the United States in the Grand Chess Tour, where the best players in the world will compete. As your sponsor, we are happy to inform you that the first tournament will take place in London...</i>
</p><p>Beth immediately called the magazine to ask who the other players were. When she heard the name Vasily Borgov, her heart skipped a beat. </p><p>In London, there was a note under the door in her hotel room instructing her to wait until after midnight. She only needed to see the handwriting to know who the author was. When the knock came, Beth swung the door open and pulled the man standing outside into her room. A year had passed since she last saw Borgov, but it felt like no time had gone by, thanks to the frequent correspondences he sent, the ones she now treasured and looked forward to reading. They never made her feel lonely. </p><p>“Miss Harmon...” Borgov started.</p><p>Beth cut him off by leaping into his arms, but he was ready, catching her and holding her in a tight embrace. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she looked up at him. Was he always this tall? She pressed her warm body against the large, muscular frame hidden underneath his suit.</p><p>“Do I still feel the same?” she asked.</p><p>He cupped her cheek and said softly, “Let us found out.”</p><p>Later that night, she sat in a chair and spread her legs for him for the first time.</p><p>Beth woke up the next afternoon, Borgov gone, but the feel of his mouth still lingering on her pussy. She rolled over in bed and found a note scribbled on hotel stationery.</p><p>
  <i>I will see you in Madrid, my little grandmaster. </i>
</p><p>**</p><p>The tour took them to Madrid, Budapest, Brussels...with the last stop scheduled for Moscow. Where it all began.</p><p>In each city, there was a note waiting for Beth under her door. Sometimes, she went to his room. Sometimes, he came to her. On this tour, there was no Mrs. Borgov, no son, but there were still KGB agents tracking his every move. They managed to meet behind their backs in the middle of the night, where there were no prying eyes. </p><p>Beth never asked about his family, despite how much her conscience liked to gnaw at her. But in Rome, a few days before they were to head to Moscow, Borgov offered her the information without her even prompting him. He explained their absence was due to his son's schooling.</p><p>“Do you miss them?” Beth asked as they laid in her bed together, their naked bodies entwined. </p><p>“I miss my son,” he said.</p><p>Then, he confessed to her about how his marriage had been arranged, much like everything else in is entire life. And when he did the math, he wasn't even sure if his son was biologically his because he had actually been out of the country at the time. Still, Borgov loved the boy.</p><p>Beth's chest tightened, recalling the dismissive nature toward her from both her own father and Mr. Wheatley. How was it possible for a supposedly cold and unfeeling man like Borgov to care for a child that might not even be his, yet she had struggled to find that same sort of attention all her life, wondering if she was even worthy of it?</p><p>Now she knew she was. </p><p>Beth kissed Borgov hungrily, stroking his cock until he was hard. Then, she climbed on top of her, straddling his larger and bulkier body. She had never been in this position before with him, preferring instead to feel his weight moving on top of her when they made love. </p><p>Made love. Was this what they were doing?</p><p>“Be careful, my darling,” Borgov said in Russian as she took a hold of his thick veiny cock and positioned herself over it. </p><p>Slowly, Beth sank down and choked back a sob, his bare cock stretching her open. It burned in a way that made her shiver. To distract herself, she looked down at Borgov, admiring the older man's physique. Everything about him was strong and masculine. His black hair that was showing some gray. His handsome, clean-shaven face. His broad shoulders. The wiry and wispy hairs covering his wide muscular chest. The dark trail that started at his belly button and led to the space where they were connected at right now. She pushed all the way down on his cock until he was completely inside, her mouth dropping open at how full she felt. </p><p>“My darling,” Borgov called her again in Russian, while squeezing her waist affectionately. </p><p>Beth moaned and began to slide up and down his cock. Each time he hit that spot deep inside her, she became more slippery and aroused. Borgov observed her intently, taking in the sight of her swaying breasts and small hips bouncing on top of him. </p><p>“You are beautiful,” he said. </p><p>Under Borgov's watchful gaze, she indeed felt beautiful. She lowered herself to kiss him again, their tongues touching and tasting the other as their moans grew louder and louder. He grabbed her tiny waist, and she became still as he took control, pumping his huge cock in and out of her. She cried out against his hot mouth. </p><p>“Shhh, it's all right,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you, my darling.”</p><p>Beth clung to Borgov almost helplessly, her small breasts pressed against his hairy chest and her face buried in his neck. She inhaled the scent of his woodsy cologne and that only made her more wet. He wrapped his large arms around her and continued to plunder her tight hole with his big cock from below. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed obscenely in the room.</p><p>“Please,” Beth pleaded. “Please...”</p><p>With one hand, Borgov lifted her chin until his dark eyes bore straight into her. “Tell me.”</p><p>There was so much she did want to tell him: <i>Please stay with me. Please don't hurt me. Please love me.</i></p><p>But in this moment, the only words that flowed out of Beth were “Please...please make me come...”</p><p>Borgov gave her a kiss before lifting her body up slightly and taking her right nipple in between his teeth. She cried out at the tiny jolt of pain. He did the same with her other breast, licking and sucking and biting the pink nub. With his cock deep inside her and his mouth teasing her breasts, it was enough stimulation for Beth. She threw her head back as the first waves of her orgasm washed over her. She clenched her pussy walls once, then twice, around Borgov's stiff member before her entire body shook and she collapsed on top of him. </p><p>“Good girl,” Borgov said, stroking her red hair. </p><p>She whimpered into his shoulder as he continued thrusting into her pussy. His warm hands moved down her back and squeezed her bottom. With a firm grip, he moved her up and down his rigid cock. Faster and faster. Her whimpers turned into wailing. If he didn't stop soon, she might come again—and that was probably what Borgov wanted as he unexpectedly quickened his pace. Sore and exhausted, Beth could only lie there and take his cock. But once he hit that sweet spot inside her, she convulsed on top of him, coming hard for the second time. Borgov was right there with her. With a groan, he pulled out of her, spraying her bottom and the inside of her thighs with his cum. </p><p>It took Beth a moment before she rolled off Borgov and fell beside him on the soft bed. He turned his head to look at her, his gaze resting on the sticky white mess in between her legs. For a moment, she thought about pushing his seed back inside herself. If she got pregnant, there would be no doubt who the father was. But that was just a fantasy. Borgov already had his own family.</p><p>Beth didn't realize he was staring at her with a deep frown on his face until he pulled her back to him. </p><p>“Where did you go just now?” he asked, tapping the side of her head. </p><p>She averted her gaze. “It's nothing.”</p><p>He tucked his fingers under her chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “You are thinking about Moscow.”</p><p>Of course, she was. After Moscow and the tour was over, they would most likely go their separate ways again. Then, what? Back to only receiving anonymous letters in the mail? It wasn't fair. </p><p>Borgov sighed and hugged her. “I am thinking about Moscow too.”</p><p>In his arms, Beth finally relaxed. She pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to his beating heart. It sounded like a chess clock. </p><p>
  <i>Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock...</i>
</p><p>**</p><p>So, here they were in Moscow.</p><p>After she made herself come, Beth took a nap and a shower. She put on a purple dress that showed off her slim figure and long legs. Then, she sat at her vanity and dusted some blush on her already-pink cheeks and applied some red lipstick. She ran her fingers through the soft curls of her shoulder-length red hair, then spritzed jasmine perfume on her wrists, Borgov's favorite. </p><p>Next to the glass perfume bottle was his letter. She picked it up to read again.</p><p>
  <i>Make sure no one is following you tonight.</i>
</p><p>Beth admitted it thrilled her to know her relationship with Borgov was forbidden and taboo, but in her heart, she knew if their relationship was out in the open, it would thrill her more.</p><p>Before leaving her room, Beth checked her reflection in the mirror one more time. It had taken her awhile for her to no longer see the scared little girl or the troubled addict looking back at her. She studied the confident young woman in the mirror, dressed in a pretty dress and with her hair and makeup done—and she liked what she saw.</p><p>Beth hurried down the hall, turning the corner. She walked past Mr. Anderson's room, the only other American staying in the hotel. The government agent had met her in Moscow as soon as she had landed. He gave her the same instructions as Mr. Booth did a year ago: “Do not go anywhere alone. Do not open your door. Do not answer your phone. No drinking...And if any of the Russian players try to signal you in any way, let me know.”</p><p>Would sleeping with one count as a signal?</p><p>If Borgov was supposed to be the enemy, she lost that war long ago. </p><p>She stood outside his door, already breathless. With one knock, the door opened. Borgov stood on the other side, looking as handsome as ever, while dressed casually in black slacks, a black tie loosely hanging from his neck, and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He stepped aside to let her in to his suite. Silently, she strolled into the middle of the large living room, where there was a chess board set up in between a table and two chairs. </p><p>“Purple,” Borgov said behind her. “The color of royalty.” </p><p>Beth twirled in her dress. “Do you like it?”</p><p>“It suits you.” He gestured to the board he had set up. “Please.”</p><p>A part of Beth was disappointed that Borgov wasn't throwing her on the bed right now, but this was fine for now. He pulled out one of the chairs for her before taking a seat across the table. She looked at the white chess pieces in front of her, then up at Borgov's impassive expression. She remembered how not so long ago when she couldn't decipher his stone face. Those stolen glances filled with intrigue whenever he wasn't looking. Feeling his heavy gaze on her as she walked through a room. He was an enigmatic puzzle that she hadn't been able to solve. Now, she was unearthing more pieces that weren't there before. Pieces he was only just now revealing, so that she could find his weakness.</p><p>Her.</p><p>With a twinkle in his eyes, Borgov said, “Let's play.”</p><p>**</p><p>Beth stared at the pieces in front of her, formulating her next move. They had been playing for almost two hours now. Each quiet second that passed was like agony as time dragged on in Borgov's room. Because as Beth stared at the chess pieces, she also stared at his hands, crossed over his arms on top of the table. Those older and more experienced hands. His fingers tapped on his elbow impatiently, and she squeezed her legs tighter together. The images of those strong fingers caressing her face, stroking her breasts, and touching her pussy flooded her mind. With a frustrated sigh, she moved her bishop. It only took a couple seconds for Borgov to move his piece, and then it was back to her. Beth rubbed her legs together under the table, her empty pussy clenching behind the center of her soaked underwear. </p><p>With a smirk, Borgov seemed to notice her discomfort. “What's wrong, my little grandmaster?”</p><p>She narrowed her eyes. “You know exactly what's wrong.”</p><p>He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, I see. You came here tonight expecting sex, and instead, you find yourself playing a rather dull game of chess.”</p><p>“Are you calling me dull?” Beth nearly jumped from her seat. </p><p>Borgov carefully scanned her with his dark eyes. “You are anything but dull, my darling.” With that, he picked up his king—the game now moving off the board—and walked around the table to her. </p><p>Beth looked up at him, shivering with anticipation. He placed the black chess piece on her lips, and she found herself opening her mouth for him. He slid his king in slowly. Wordlessly, she kept her gaze locked on his indescribable face as he pushed the king in and out over her wet tongue. She didn't understand what was happening, but she felt her nipples pebble under her dress, and her pussy was throbbing harder, begging to be filled. She squeezed her legs together again.</p><p>“Do you need some relief?” Borgov asked.</p><p>She nodded and moaned around chess piece. <i>Yes, yes, yes...</i></p><p>In an instant, he removed the object from her mouth and stepped away. “Stand up and take off your clothes,” he told her.</p><p>Beth couldn't undress fast enough, sliding out of her black heels and unzipping her purple dress, letting it fall to her feet. </p><p>Borgov looked her over with a heated gaze. “Everything.”</p><p>She was trembling as she reached behind her back and removed her white bra. It joined her dress on the  floor. The cool air in the room hit her achy and sensitive breasts. Borgov was still waiting for her to follow through on his instructions, so Beth hooked her fingers on her underwear and slowly started to lower them. She had been right about how wet she was; the white lace was sticking to her drenched pussy. The musky scent of her arousal filled her nostrils. She gave the garment a little tug and it came all the way down around her ankles. She stepped out of them. Although Borgov had seen her naked before, she instinctively covered the little triangle of red hair in between her legs. </p><p>Borgov was breathing heavily now as he looked over her completely nude body. He motioned her with his eyes. “On the chair.”</p><p>All embarrassment vanished from Beth as she moved quickly to the piece of furniture and positioned herself on the red cushion, already familiar with the stance. One leg over the right chair arm, the other over the left. She felt raw and exposed in front of him like an unprotected pawn. </p><p>Borgov took advantage of her vulnerability. He crouched in the space between her open legs. With his king, he slid the object down the side of her neck, in between her breasts, over her flat stomach...and when she realized where he intended to go to next, she gasped.</p><p>“Wait...”</p><p>“Do you need some relief?” he repeated.</p><p>Every nerve inside Beth screamed yes again. </p><p>She gave him a silent nod. </p><p>Borgov dragged his black king in between her pale thighs. She watched in fascination as he teased her little clit with it. She jerked in her seat, her pink toes flexing at the strange sensation. </p><p>Borgov pressed a tender kiss on her inner thigh. “Take a deep breath, my darling.”</p><p>Holding her breath, she laid there passively, with her hands closed in fists at her sides, watching as Borgov pushed the most important piece in the game of chess into her dripping pink slit. It was such an unholy sight, but Beth couldn't look away. </p><p>When the king was halfway inside her, Borgov asked, “How does that feel?” </p><p>She scrunched up her nose. “I don't know.” The chess piece felt thicker than her own finger, but not as long as Borgov's. “Can you—can you start moving it?”</p><p>He shook his head amusingly. “You are certainly not dull, Miss Harmon.” </p><p>Before Beth could fire off a retort, he gave the chess piece a hard thrust right into her. She cursed at him in Russian, causing him to chuckle.  </p><p>“How does that feel now?” he asked.</p><p>She tilted her head down to look at the black chess piece lodged deep inside her pussy. “It feels like I have your king.”</p><p>“Yes, it seems as though you do.” With a darkened expression, Borgov slid the piece halfway out, then shoved it back into her. He did it again and again until the realization suddenly dawned on her. He was actually going to fuck her with his king. It was so kinky and wrong—it excited her. Beth let out a sob as he pushed the object deeper inside her, each groove rubbing against her walls pleasurably.  </p><p>While twisting the piece expertly in and out of her, Borgov put his mouth on her breast. He bit down hard enough to break skin. She hissed, knowing he was going to leave a mark there. Threading her fingers through his dark strands, she watched him move his mouth to her pink nipples, licking and sucking on them lavishly, understanding how sensitive she was there after spending time learning how to make her body respond. It did not take much.</p><p>Soon, Beth was flailing under him. </p><p>“I'm coming,” she gasped.</p><p>Borgov suddenly dropped the king from his hand and placed his head between her legs. She yelped as he gave her pulsating pussy a lewd, sloppy kiss. Then, as if he knew he could better than his chess piece, Borgov plunged two fingers deep inside her, catching the juices that were trickling out of her. </p><p>Finally, she found her relief.</p><p>But it didn't last long.</p><p>Borgov rose to his feet and took her by the hand. On her wobbly legs, Beth followed him back to the table, where he bent her over, knocking down the reminding chess pieces from their forgotten game. With her cheek pressed against the board, she heard him unbuckle his belt and lower his zipper. He kicked her legs further apart and mounted her from behind. She barely had time to catch her breath before he drove into her with one quick hard thrust. </p><p>“Oh, fuck!” Her eyes widened at the intrusion. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...”</p><p>“I'm trying, my darling,” Borgov said. </p><p>She didn't need to see him to know he was smirking.</p><p>Borgov gripped her waist and slammed his cock into her repeatedly. Beth's harsh cries were filled with pain and pleasure. He had never been this rough with her before, and it made her think it was because this was going to be their last night together. She couldn't fathom the idea, so she shoved the thought aside.</p><p>At the same time, Borgov flipped Beth over on to her back. She was finally able to look at him and was startled to see his disheveled appearance. Locks of his dark hair fell over his damp forehead. His shirt was sticking to his perspiring body. His tie was crooked, and his slacks were pooled around his shoes. But it was the wild and insatiable look on his face that shocked her the most.</p><p>Borgov <i>wanted </i>her.</p><p>To Beth, that meant everything.</p><p>She put her hands under her knees and spread her legs wide, offering herself to the man. “Please...”</p><p>With a pained expression, Borgov guided his hard cock to her pink center again. She prepared herself for the burn and stretch, but he surprised her by slowly entering her inch by inch as though he was savoring the feel of her.</p><p>Borgov growled, pushing more of his long silky length into her. “You are so small, so tight, yet I always fit easily inside you.”</p><p>Beth mewled at his words because it was true. </p><p>“I know it is because you are my match, Elizabeth Harmon, my equal,” Borgov switched to Russian. “My queen.” With those two words, he slid all the way inside her, completing their connection as one. “You understand me, don't you, my darling?” he asked now in English. </p><p>Beth lifted herself up on her elbows, so she could answer him, while looking him in his eyes. In his language, she said, “I understand, Vasily.”</p><p>Vasily meaning king.</p><p>Her king.</p><p>Borgov gave her a pleased smile and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her until she was breathless. Then, he straightened his back and started to thrust his cock in and out of her, slowly at first, allowing her to adjust to his size. It truly was amazing how he was able to fit inside her. Transfixed, she concentrated on his long thick member appearing and disappearing in between her pink pussy lips. Each time she saw his cock come out of her, it was shinier and slippery, evidence of how much she wanted him too.</p><p>“Please,” Beth said, lifting her gaze to Borgov's face. “Please, will you move faster?”</p><p>“Are you are looking for more relief?” he asked.</p><p>She nodded feverishly. “Yes, please, give it to me.”</p><p>With a snarl, Borgov pushed his own hands under her knees, forcing her to open even wider for him so he could pound her into the table. </p><p>Now, it burned.</p><p>Moaning loudly, Beth collapsed back on to the table. The chess board dug into her spine, and the loose pieces rattled around her, some rolling off and falling to the floor. She lifted her arms over her head, her face contorting with the brutal assault of pleasure she was receiving.  </p><p>Borgov's roaming hands squeezed her jigging breasts and pinched her nipples. Meanwhile, she reached down and rubbed her clit. </p><p>“Play with yourself, my darling,” he said. </p><p>Little whimpers escaped her mouth. </p><p>
  <i>More, more, more...</i>
</p><p>Borgov seemed to read her mind as he folded her body in half, her knees now touching her shoulders. He plowed into her too small and too tight opening. Harder and faster. Faster and harder. Beth was sobbing. It was too much, but she dared not tell him to stop. The table shook roughly underneath her with each one of his sharp thrusts. She clawed at Borgov, pulling on the front of his shirt until he tumbled forward. Frantically, she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him to her. This was what she needed. More of him. More of his weight on top of her. More of his cock moving deeper and deeper...</p><p>Beth felt Borgov swell inside her, and she had the urge to keep her legs locked around him, so she could feel him spill inside her womb. She had to remind herself it was just another fantasy. Instead, she focused on her fingers massaging her clit, her mouth pressed against his cheek. </p><p>“Please,” she murmured. “Please, Vasily, I want to feel more of you.”</p><p>“I'm close, my darling,” he answered. </p><p>After pumping a few more pumps inside her, Borgov pulled his cock out, shooting ropes of white cum on her stomach. As soon as Beth felt the first splash hit her, she climaxed, her fingers still rubbing furiously at her clit, while her juices dripped down her legs. Once her body stopped quivering, she dragged her fingers through her release, then over Borgov's own splattered across her pale stomach. Curiously, she mixed the two together and brought a finger to her lips, where she sucked the salty and sweet substance off. With her finger still in her mouth, she looked up at the bewildered Borgov, proving to him once and for all, there was nothing dull about her.</p><p>“You are beautiful,” Borgov said again. “It's a shame we have to clean you up.”</p><p>He produced a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her stomach and in between her legs. Then, he lifted her off the table, effortlessly carrying her to the large bed. Gently, he placed her in the middle of the mattress and moved to finish undressing. She was still lost in a euphoric haze when he returned naked to her. They spent the next moments kissing and touching each other, their entangled bodies rubbing together, hers soft and smooth, his coarse and muscular. She reveled in their time of exploration. When they pulled away, Borgov dipped his fingers into her tender pussy, stroking it carefully.</p><p>“Was I too harsh?” he asked.</p><p>She gave him a small smile. “Nothing I couldn't handle.” </p><p>“Let's see if you feel the same way after I show you this.” Borgov got out of bed and opened a desk drawer. He climbed back next to her and handed her the folded piece of white paper.</p><p>“What is it?” Beth said.</p><p>“Take it.”</p><p>As she unfolded the paper, it occurred to her that this would be the first letter she read in front of him. It had to be important. Beth's eyes scanned the note, her heart skipping several beats with each word she took in. </p><p>“Are you sure?” she asked when she finished.</p><p>“I've never been more sure about anything in my life.” Borgov kissed her knuckles. “Will you deliver this note to your agent tomorrow?”</p><p>Tomorrow. They were going to get a tomorrow. </p><p>With a nod, she kissed him and said, “I'll do it.”</p><p>**</p><p>When Beth returned to the States, she wanted to get her mind off the man she had reluctantly left behind, so she spent a few weeks in New York with Benny and Cleo. The two were now an item and living together. Thankfully, having a woman's touch around Benny's place resulted in more clean towels and sheets and a pullout couch for guests. They took her out to dinner to celebrate her second win in Moscow and asked for all the details about the tour especially how it felt beating Borgov again. She smiled each time they said his name, knowing it was going to be useless to try to forget the Russian.</p><p>Back at his apartment, Benny took out a chess board and insisted she show him all the moves they had used on each other. She left out the move Borgov had used on her with his king. </p><p>When Beth got back to Lexington, Harry invited her to lunch where he told her he was now engaged to a girl named Pamela from work. She knew it was the real thing because he spoke about his fiance with the same passion and intensity as though they were discussing chess. </p><p>“I'm really happy for you, Harry,” she told him. </p><p>“Thanks.” He paused. “What about you, Beth? Are you...” He paused again as though he was afraid of her answer. </p><p>“Happy?” she finished. </p><p>Harry nodded.</p><p>Beth thought about this past year, and even these past few months, filled with secret love letters, hushed whispers, and meetings after dark. She touched the spot on her neck where Borgov had last kissed her. A shiver went down her back as though a ghost just skimmed his lips there. </p><p>“Beth?” Harry was still looking at her.</p><p>She never answered his question. </p><p>Then, Townes called her, hoping to get an exclusive interview from the local chess champion about her recent victory. They chatted for nearly three hours.  </p><p>“Will you come visit me for our next interview?” she asked him at the end of their conversation.</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>“Promise?”</p><p>She could hear him smile through the phone. “I promise, Harmon.”</p><p>Before Beth knew it, it was November. The year was almost over, and five months had passed since Moscow with no contact from Borgov. She feared the worst. Was he in jail? Had he been sent far away to a place like Siberia? Was he dead? Or what if he had chosen to move on in his life without her? </p><p>Alone with her thoughts, she fought daily not to relapse, so she was glad when Jolene came to spend Thanksgiving with her. Despite enjoying Jolene's company, Beth was distracted each day the mailman came by, and each time, she was disappointed to not find a letter waiting for her. </p><p>During Jolene's last evening with her, her friend finally asked her what was wrong. </p><p>“It's like you're a million miles away,” Jolene said as they sat together in the living room.</p><p>Not a million. Just a couple thousand. </p><p>For months now, Beth felt like she had never left Moscow.</p><p>“I want to show you something.” She went to a hallway closet and pulled out a shoebox she had hidden in there. Back on the couch, she opened it and took out the bundle of letters she had collected and saved from Borgov. The stack was tied together with a white ribbon. “Do you remember that letter I got a year ago from Helsinki? Well, I got more.”</p><p>“Are those all from fans?” Jolene asked.</p><p>“Sort of,” Beth said. “They're from Borgov.”</p><p>It took a moment for Jolene to connect the dots. Once she did, her brown eyes widened. “The Russian?”</p><p>“Yes.” She delicately untied the ribbon, handling each envelope and letter like they were a priceless piece of art. “He sent me all these letters.” She pulled out one postmarked from Quebec. “In this one, he told me he loved my eyes.” The one from Luxembourg. “This one is funny. He wrote me to congratulate me on my win in a regional tournament in Cleveland. I still have no idea how he even knew about that.” The letter from Cairo. “This one is one of my favorites. He described kissing me in his dreams.” As she picked up another one, her chest grew tight, tears prickling her eyes. “And this one...he...”</p><p>“Stop.” Jolene grabbed her hand, causing the letters to fall to her lap.</p><p>Beth waited for Jolene to talk some sense into her. That sleeping with a married man who was twice her age was inexcusable. That she was a homewrecker. That she was acting self-destructive again, but instead of booze and pills, she was pursuing a relationship that was impossible and wrong.</p><p>But the only thing Jolene said was “Do you love him?”</p><p>Beth should have known that her oldest friend wouldn't judge or ridicule her.</p><p>Looking down at Borgov's letters, she finally admitted it to herself. “Yes, I love him.”</p><p>As soon as she said the words out loud, she felt free. She only wished she knew if Borgov felt the same way. </p><p>A week before Christmas, her wish came true. A new letter arrived. It was postmarked from Chicago and there was a return address on the left hand corner. She didn't open it right away, scared of what news it might contain. </p><p>It wasn't until Beth washed her face and changed into her nightgown that she opened the envelope. In bed, she unfolded the letter. The words were written in Russian, but she still recognized every pen stroke. Borgov's deep voice filled her head as he read his letter to her.</p><p>
  <i>My Darling: </i>
</p><p>
  <i>First, let me apologize for my delay in writing to you. I hope you did not worry much. After Moscow, everything felt like a storm. I cannot share many details, but please know I will forever be grateful for your help. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>My son, Ivan, has joined me here in the United States. My wife has chosen to stay in Russia. We are only husband and wife by name. You see, her heart belongs to Russia, while my heart belongs to you. It has been yours since you took the game from me, and with it, my heart. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Although you have not heard from me for quite some time, please believe that you are always in my thoughts. As soon as I open my eyes, you are all I think about, and when I close them at night, I dream about being inside you. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I have been playing the same game for over forty years, but I am ready to trade it for a new one. One where I can finally live a life for myself. The only thing missing is you. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>
Vasily </i>
</p><p>Beth's vision was blurry with tears by the time she finished. Borgov was safe, and he was here in the U.S., but most importantly, he was hers. </p><p>She wiped her eyes and jumped out of bed, no longer interested in getting any sleep. She rummaged through her desk until she found a blank notepad. There were so many thoughts running through her mind that she had to put them down right away. Picking up her pen, she started writing Borgov back. </p><p>**</p><p>It was snowing when Beth arrived in Chicago. </p><p>Two weeks had passed since she mailed her letter to Borgov. It had taken her an entire day to write out all her thoughts. She shared with him memories of her childhood. Her mother. Methuen Home. Mr. Shaibel. Alma. Jolene, Townes, Benny, Harry, all the friends she had made along the way. She shared with him even her darkest moments. How she had tried to fill the emptiness inside her with drugs and alcohol and chess. But it was chess that had brought them together. She told him she did not believe in fate until they met because when he came into her life, she no longer felt empty. She was a survivor just like him. Beth concluded her letter with her travel information, including the date and time she would be getting into Chicago.  </p><p>Dressed in a purple coat and a black dress, Beth got off the train with her suitcase and walked into the station. She scanned the busy lobby for a tall, dark-haired gentleman, but there were many men in suits and long overcoats. </p><p>Then, she spotted him.</p><p>The former Russian was also searching the room. She stood in place and watched Borgov, patiently waiting for their gazes to meet—eventually, they always did. As soon as he found her, the crowds parted, and they slowly made their their way toward each other. </p><p>Borgov's black suit was familiar, so was his black tie, long wool coat, and polished shoes. His temples were gray, giving him an even more distinguished look, and dark stubble covered his unshaven, but still handsome, face. He looked older and weary, which only reminded Beth of the battles he overcame so he could be standing in this train station with her at this very moment.</p><p>How could she not love this man?</p><p>Beth dropped her suitcase and flung herself into Borgov's awaiting arms. With a deep and passionate kiss, he lifted her feet off the ground. She wanted the kiss to go on forever, but he softly lowered her back to the ground. She looked up at him, still in disbelief that he was standing in front of her. </p><p>Here. </p><p>Out in the open. </p><p>Together. </p><p>With tears filling her eyes, Beth placed her hand over his heart. “Mine?”</p><p>Borgov tilted her chin up to kiss her once again. “Yours,” he whispered into her mouth.</p><p>She swallowed the word and let it take root inside her own heart, where it belonged. </p><p>THE END</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, are you guys alive?</p><p>Title is from, of course, <a href="https://youtu.be/y_wmpbg611Q">"Take It, It's Yours"</a> from The Queen's Gambit soundtrack, which I call the unofficial Beth/Borgov love theme! I also imagine it playing when Beth and Borgov reunite in the train station and he sweeps her off his feet and they kiss and everything fades to black, happily ever after! *swoon*</p><p>In case you couldn't tell, Borgov was writing his letters from the cities he visited for chess matches. I imagine he wrote them late at night in his hotel room and had a bellboy drop them off at the front desk to be mailed. Also, I miss writing letters!</p><p>Also also, someone please stop me from writing a modern AU for my next story. One where Borgov is the cranky, divorced Russian who moves in next door to Beth and teaches her how to play chess. I see a lot of shenanigans including a game of strip chess and an inappropriate use of a vibrator. I WROTE IT ---&gt; <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694664/chapters/67776896">FOLLOW ME THERE</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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